By Stephen
Date: 2002 May 16
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[[2002.05.16.03.27.16366]]

World War Picnic



prickly green underfoot
wading through picnics of disaster
golden prophecies of thought
when seeing her wavy amber hair

she pulled pins of pineapples off my vest
handing me sweet yellow, like I'm yellow
her slice of pineapple through my chest
over sheets of red plaid

she commands the penetrating fray
cute misty fragmentation fodder
run little soldier run from her gun
I'll get shot sooner or later

head over heels and diving for ditches
I victim to her hot flame-throwing intuition
as she hands me her knuckle sandwich
with a look that makes me roast on rye  

I manage to muster my courage to cluster
but she always brings along reinforcements
grabbing my gassy canister of choking mustards
she turrets her turnips to her lips and bites

the stubborn day, retaining its retreat
a army of yellow jackets' out to win
her sting is worse than her bite, I thought
but her wartime kiss was surrendered bliss

left dead back on the fields of battle when
she ran triumphant into her victory dance
whipped cream and red delights pulled then
and still left I am today, with her strawberry burns